


How to Cure Tension at Work

by Top_Hatted_Octopus



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-21
Updated: 2018-04-21
Packaged: 2019-04-25 21:37:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14387631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Top_Hatted_Octopus/pseuds/Top_Hatted_Octopus
Summary: Complete smut. Absolutely no plot whatsoever...and perhaps the tiniest amount of romance(ish) if you squint.





	How to Cure Tension at Work

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: I do not own Sherlock or anything related to the franchise.

  Snapping his hips forward, Greg was rewarded with a guttural moan. He smirked and did it again.

“Oh!” It came as a barely audible groan. And didn't that just boost his ego?

“You like that, Sherlock?” The last word was punctuated by a particularly hard thrust and he watched as Sherlock's mouth opened in a silent gasp, skin flushing even darker than before.

God, he was gorgeous like this. Long limbs sprawled across the table, head thrown back and neck arched - still half dressed with his unbuttoned shirt clinging to his shoulders.

Greg thought he could come from that sight alone.

“Jesus, you're so tight.” He managed, fingers digging into Sherlock's hips until they almost bruised.

Greg's skin was slick and he burned hot all over, his thrusts becoming less controlled now, erratic even, as flesh hit flesh with obscene slapping noises.

He gripped one of Sherlock's legs and threw it over his shoulder, pounding even deeper into the younger man.

“Oh, G-Greg!” Sherlock choked out as Greg angled his hips to hit his prostate. “ _Yes!_ Just like that!” And he fisted his own cock, hand working over his swollen member with increasing urgency.

Greg could tell Sherlock was getting close; his body was tense, muscles straining and trembling with effort, his mouth parted and lips swollen from were he'd bitten them.

Unable to resist such a sight, Greg yanked Sherlock's leg from his shoulder and pressed against the hard chest beneath him; catching the other man's mouth in a brutal kiss made up of hard teeth and slippery tongues.

Greg's hand wound into Sherlock's hair and tugged sharply, eliciting a throaty groan and, just like that, Sherlock tensed beneath him; coming with a shout that Greg eagerly swallowed.

The feeling of Sherlock clenching hotly around him had Greg coming moments later, hips surging forward and head thrown back with a breathy cry of release.

When the final waves finally drained away, all Greg could do was sag, chest heaving and limbs trembling, face buried in the crook of Sherlock's neck.

There were several minutes of blissful silence, but, of course, Sherlock had to open his mouth.

“You're heavy, Lestrade.”

Greg chuckled and the other man huffed.

“Do get off will you? This table is neither soft nor comfortable.”

He laughed outright then and slowly lurched to his feet, disposing of the condom before slumping onto the nearest chair.

Equally as slow, and with as much dignity as he could muster, Sherlock rose to his feet, before turning to Greg with an raised brow, expectant.

“Shower?” He smirked. “Or are you too weary to move, old man?”

Greg's eyes narrowed and he stood, stalking the few steps between then until he stopped but a hairsbreadth from Sherlock. “Old man? Didn't your mother ever tell you not to disrespect your elders?”

Sherlock's smirk grew into a smile that was all teeth. “Did I hit a nerve, Lestrade?”

Greg's original plan to fuck the sass out of the pompous brat had evidently backfired...

“Watch it, Sherlock.” He growled, not missing the way Sherlock's pupils dilated at his gravelly tone. Spent though he was, his cock gave an interested twitch at the reaction.

...perhaps a repeat performance was needed.

Sherlock held his gaze, no longer mocking, it was filled with intensity. “Or. What.”

They crashed together, lips, teeth, and tongue; the last shreds of Sherlock's clothing removed as hands groped and clawed.

Greg all but manhandled Sherlock into his bathroom, pawing blindly for the tap.

Both men gasped at the frigid water, Greg only sparing a moment of attention to adjust the temperature before pouncing on Sherlock, his cock, surprisingly, half hard.

When the younger man felt his growing hardness, he looked at Greg in surprise. “Well Inspector, I admire your stamina.” Another tooth-filled grin. “I wouldn't have thought you'd have it in you.”

Greg growled low in his throat and bit down – hard – on Sherlock's neck.

The other man moaned a curse and grabbed a handful of Greg's hair, pulling him up and smashing their lips together once more.

It was rough, almost primitive, but neither man would have it any other way.

All too soon, Sherlock tore his mouth away, but, before Greg could utter a protest, the younger man sunk to his knees and engulfed his length in one fell swoop.

Choking on his own tongue, Greg braced one arm against the shower wall, his other hand winding into Sherlock's hair as the other man worked him until he was fully hard once more.

Within seconds, he lost all coherent thought.

 

 

________

 

 

  A while later, Greg lay on his bed, completely naked with one arm thrown behind his head as he watched Sherlock dress, his stomach feeling oddly heavy. Disappointment? Surely not. He could barely stand the man after all.

Sherlock had just finished pulling on his belstaff when he finally met Greg's gaze. “John's on a date tomorrow night.”

Greg fought the sudden smile that wanted to curl his lips and simply raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? Good for him.”

Fingers adjusting the scarf around his neck, Sherlock nodded. “I'll see you at eight then.” He turned to go, but paused, looking back over his shoulder. “And bring thai.” And with that he swept from Greg's flat, coat flaring dramatically as he went.

As the front door closed, Greg smiled, feeling lighter than he had in years.

 


End file.
